Development
by Mweloo
Summary: -Kageyama- The story of a family and volleyball, with the piano making an extended cameo.


**Note: My goodness. Two years since I last wrote on this site. Gah. By the way, the Japanese school year starts in April and ends in March the following year. I had a lot problems trying to write a younger version of Kageyama, but I hope he's believable in this. Also, I'm usually not too fond of original characters, but I doubt we'll ever see Kageyama's parents in the manga (unless they have something to do with volleyball, which they kind of do in this story).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Haikyuu!**_**. Neither do I own this idea, for that matter- an anonymous user posted it on another Tumblr user's blog. I put it up on my own Tumblr blog and then deleted the whole thing for reasons I don't wish to disclose. Satoru and Ayame, however are my creations.**

* * *

"Tobio!"

The young boy didn't reply. He was barely moving, though his fingers dug into the sofa cushion as though his life depended on it. Two of the big guys in the blue-clad team were ganging up on the red-clad man preparing to toss the ball. In the blink of an eye the ball was moving leftwards and the crowd could be heard cheering and jeering simultaneously. Tobio groaned; the ball had been blocked by the human wall in blue.

_And the man in red looked like he was doing such a good job before-_

"Tobio!" His mother's voice was sharper this time.

His groan changed to a low growl. Why interrupt him now, when things were getting so exciting?

"What, Mum?" he yelled over the sound of the spectators' screaming, hoping he'd be able to delay whatever she wanted him to do.

"Come up here now."

For some reason, he didn't have the heart to actually disobey his mother- it was something he could never bring himself to do. Sulking, he slid off the sofa, turned off the television, and stalked to his parents' bedroom, his brain still full with thoughts of the match.

The players were so _fast_, and everything was so _tense_, it was… it was… his six-year-old brain couldn't come up with a word that described the feeling properly.

He did know that he wanted that feeling. He wanted to be part of the match.

When he reached the room, he found his mother was sitting by the piano. That alone intrigued Tobio in spite of himself. He could already feel his irritation fading away and tried to hold on to it (_Mum interrupted the match, Mum interrupted the match!_). Predictably, he ended up failing miserably.

She was his _mother_. He never could be angry at her- or his dad- for long

Did he have to work on that so that he'd be able to watch more games? He wasn't sure.

"Sit here, dear," his mother said, jolting him out of his thoughts and patting the space next to her on the small bench. He did as he was told, and when his mother turned to him, he saw that she had a funny look in her eyes- a look he only saw when she was practising on the piano. His dad had called it "genius burning", whatever that meant.

"Tobio," his mother said, that look in her eyes disrupting her usually serene face, "would you like to try playing the piano?"

He looked at her and then at the piano. He shrugged. His mother made piano-playing seem so easy. If he learnt this quickly, he could tell her about the ball game and she could let him play _that_ instead- it seemed like it would be so much more fun.

A small part of him also said that if he said no to his mother he'd end up feeling bad.

But the rest of his thoughts were already being transported back thousands of miles, back to a sports hall in Tokyo. His mother's words were then like a ball bouncing in a faraway corner of a volleyball court.

* * *

Ayame Kageyama pursed her lips, closed her eyes and suppressed a sigh.

"Tobio, dear, that's not an E flat, that's a low C."

She had always prided herself in being a patient person, but four months of futilely trying to teach Tobio to play the piano were starting to eat away at her restraint. She taught piano part-time when she didn't have concerts or rehearsals to attend, and she never would have taught that _her own son_ would prove to be her most trying pupil yet.

She looked at Tobio. The boy held _so much_ potential as a pianist. He had long, quick fingers for his age, and had displayed a knack for rhythm on the few occasions that she got him to pay attention. At one point he actually managed to play simple arpeggio, only to come for the next lesson having forgotten most of the things she'd taught him.

He would have been brilliant if he'd practised regularly.

She'd reminded, she'd reproached, she'd tried every method to make the piano more appealing to him. She'd seen him at the piano a few times, his brows furrowed together as he sat by the piano and tried to play a simple scale. He never stayed there long- after ten minutes he'd be storming out of the room muttering under his breath.

It pained Ayame to see that her son was so clearly disinterested in playing the piano. She wasn't expecting Tobio to grow up wanting to pursue a musical career like she had, but she'd believed that he had to learn something productive while he was still young, and when he hadn't objected to learning the one skill she could teach him, well… her happiness had truly known no bounds.

_He's probably interested in something else…_

In all her introspection Ayame had let her guard down, and the unpleasant voice that had entered her thoughts recently whispered something she'd always tried to muffle out: _Maybe you're just trying to force your interests on him at this point._

_No, no! _She'd always criticised mothers who were forcing their children engage in numerous activities that the children had no care for. Was she no different, in a sense? Had she been simply ignoring her son's preferences?

She wanted to be a better mother to Tobio than that. Which meant that they needed to talk. Now.

Ayame took a deep breath, mentally shook herself, and said in what she hoped was a steady voice, "Tobio. Look at me. We need to talk."

Tobio was determinedly avoiding her gaze. His eyes were fixed on the music sheets in front of him.

"Tobio, I'm not going to scold you."

He promptly stopped looking at the sheets and gawked at her. He looked so absurdly surprised that Ayame chuckled. She couldn't help herself.

"Tobio," she said kindly, "I want to you to be honest with me. Do you want to continue playing the piano?"

Ayame was surprised to see Tobio hesitate. The boy was usually straightforward with his demands and requests, occasionally to the point of sounding very rude.

"No," he said, eyeing her like he expected her to explode. When the aforementioned explosion didn't come, he ventured a little further. "I never liked it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It was mildly unsettling to see her bold, confident son purse his lips and deliberate anxiously. "Well-"

"Yes?" Ayame prompted gently.

"I thought that if Iearnt the playing the piano really quickly, I'd be able to show you this cool new sport I saw on TV the other day."

His explanation was rather odd. "Tobio, you've said no to me before," Ayame said, trying to hide her puzzlement. "Several times, in fact. You could just have told me that you wanted to play something else."

"But it's _the piano_," he said, as if it was obvious. There was something in the earnest way he said it that made Ayame smile, as she realised what he was trying to get at.

"Just because the piano means a lot to me doesn't mean it has to be the same for you. I want you to do what you like. I asked you if you wanted to learn piano-playing because I want you to be a talented young man, but you _can_ go and explore other things if you want to- I just want you to learn something useful at the end of it all."

She waited as Tobio digested her little sermon. His eyes slowly lit up. "So I can stop playing the piano and try playing the sport I was telling you about?"

"Yes, if you feel very strongly about the ball game," Ayame said, smiling. "What sport is it, anyway? Football? Basketball? Softball?"

He shook his head vigourously. "None of those. It's volleyball."

"Volleyball?"

"It was so awesome!" Tobio burst out. He stood up and started gesticulating wildly. "The first match I saw on TV had all these big guys, and everyone was so fast, and some of them could jump really high, and one seemed to be throwing the ball to the others, who'd be like- _wham!" _He slammed his hand on the now-vacated bench for emphasis.

"All right, all right," Ayame said, laughing. "I'll talk to your father and we'll see what we can do for you."

"Really? Yes!" Tobio threw his fist in the air. "Thanks, Mum!" He was grinning from ear to ear- a rare sight even for her and Satoru, and Ayame felt like a great weight had been mostly lifted off her back. An idea entered her head then and her smile turned wry.

She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible when she spoke again. "And Tobio?"

"What?"

"Were you listening to me when I said that _anything_- mastering the piano included- required years of hard work? I said it on the day I first asked you about learning to play the piano, remember?"

His guilty and mildly bewildered expression sent her into another peal of laughter. "You're forgiven this time, dear."

* * *

When Satoru came home late that Friday night, he wasn't expecting his wife to still be awake and sipping on a cup of warm milk in the living room.

"Things got really busy at the bookstore today," he said, stomping snow off his boots and taking off his coat. "Besides, the new shipment of classics was delivered later than expected due to a massive traffic jam, so the manager asked everyone on duty to stay back." He looked at her. "What happened? Did someone call for me while I was at work?"

"No. It's about Tobio."

"He didn't catch the flu bug that's been spreading around, did he?" Satoru asked, sitting next to her and taking the cup of hot cocoa that she'd made for him. He glanced briefly at Tobio's closed bedroom door before refocusing on Ayame.

"Thankfully, it's nothing as serious as that." Ayame paused and looked thoughtfully at him. "Satoru, do you know anyone who plays volleyball?"

"Not personally, no. I confess to knowing nothing about it myself," he said, surprised. "Has Tobio suddenly developed a passion for the sport?"

"I wouldn't say suddenly- judging by the way he was talking to me earlier, I think he's been watching matches for quite a while."

Satoru raised an eyebrow and took a sip of cocoa. "If he's been fascinated with the sport for that long, why talk about it now? It's not like Tobio to be quiet about this kind of thing."

"I spoke to him earlier about the piano," Ayame's tone was conversational, but there was something different about her posture- he couldn't quite pin it down. "He told me that he was never interested in it and wanted to play volleyball instead." She offered him a sad smile. "He's been trying to keep up with the piano for my sake, apparently."

"Well," Satoru hesitated and considered the situation. He'd never been the sentimental sort, so consoling and comforting people wasn't something that came easily to him. "You know neither of you are to fully blame, right?"

"I don't know," Ayame said. Her tone then turned wistful. "I won't deny hoping to see him on stage performing at least once. That's dream's over now, I suppose." She shook her head slightly. "I should really stop mulling over that, or I'll just make myself miserable."

Satoru smiled. "Just let the kid take his time, Ayame. We'll see how this pans out." He finished his cocoa and looked at the clock.

_14 December, 12.10 a.m._

"Ayame, isn't Tobio's birthday coming up soon?"

"Yes, it's on the twenty-second. Really, Satoru, how can you not remember- oh!" Her eyes grew wide, and they exchanged grins.

Satoru made a mental note to check the sports shelf in the bookstore the next time he went to work.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Tobio!"

Tobio squirmed slightly as his mother hugged him and his dad ruffled his hair. He loved his parents, but he'd been growing less fond of the idea of getting hugged, mostly due to overhearing the older students in school talk about how their mothers still treated them like little kids. He was sure his mother wouldn't treat him like that as he grew older, but still… he wasn't a baby anymore, either.

As if she'd read his mind, his mother let go of him and walked over to the refrigerator, where his birthday cake was stored. Just thinking about it made Tobio's mouth water. _This_ was what he'd been waiting for. The cake. The presents.

He couldn't help hoping that this year's presents had something to do with volleyball. It was a hope that had only grown stronger a few days ago when he'd finally found the school volleyball team's teacher-in-charge and asked about joining.

The reply still stung.

_"It's too late for that now, Kageyama, but I'll be more than happy to let you join when the new school year starts."_

After that, he'd managed to get his father to go with him to the community centre to ask about volleyball classes, only to be told that they were "for grown-ups only". He'd tried arguing with the receptionist but had been silenced the moment his father had given him a particular _look_.

April seemed so far away. He didn't know if he could wait and just do nothing.

A pat on his back pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Come on, kiddo, don't mope on your birthday. There's a delicious cake waiting for you."

"I'm not moping," Tobio grumbled, but his eyes lit up upon seeing the cake, now with seven candles on it. His dad was right- Tobio was suddenly tempted to finish the entire thing in one go.

The birthday song and cake cutting went by in a flash; he was wolfing down his first slice of cake when his mother put a plastic bag on the table. He immediately reached out for it.

"Eat, wash, and then open your presents, Tobio," his mother said sternly. He tried to make a face at her, but his mouth was so full of chocolate he didn't know what his face actually looked like. Nevertheless, he hurriedly did as he was told and started tearing apart the wrapping paper with a ferocity that would have scared the girls in his class.

He heard one of his parents say something about being gentle, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was drinking in every detail of what lay before him.

It was beautiful.

He picked up the volleyball very carefully, and let his fingers familiarise himself with its rough texture. He threw it and caught it a few times, and put it down before picking up the book.

_Volleyball for the Young: A Simple Guide._

He had never wanted to read something so badly before.

_Thank you so much, Mum and Dad._

* * *

_Knock, knock!_

"Give me a minute, Tobio!" Satoru called out. He read through his email one more time and clicked the SEND button. He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. _I hope the boss doesn't lose it when he reads this. We're understaffed as it is, and I don't want him kicking the new part-time kids out so soon- this whole thing isn't entirely their fault._

He stood up, opened the door, and- predictably- saw Tobio with the volleyball in hand. The boy held the ball up."Practise tosses with me."

"Sure, kid." He looked out of the window. It was mid-February, and the snow was already starting to deplete. "Balcony again?"

Tobio nodded. "I'll help you clear the stuff."

"Okay, then."

It had become a common for either him or Ayame to help Tobio with what he called "tosses and spikes"- Satoru confessed to knowing nothing about either. Sometimes he and Tobio would pass the ball to each other, other times he'd pass and Tobio would spike the ball in his direction, only for him to receive it.

They'd been doing it for almost two months, and Satoru couldn't help feeling uncomfortable whenever he saw Tobio frown during their little sessions.

_Poor kid, he must think that his talent's being wasted, doing the same thing over and over again._

It made him wish that he'd done more for the boy. But, logically speaking, there was nothing more he _could _do.

"Dad…."

"Hm?" He looked at Tobio, whose face was quickly turning red from trying to lift the coffee table. Satoru nearly rolled his eyes and took the table from him. _Trust Tobio to attempt the impossible._

"Can we go to the community centre and ask about playing with the grown-ups?"

Satoru pressed his lips together. He had less patience than Ayame when it came to Tobio, and this was the fifth time the boy had asked that question.

"Tobio, I told you. We can't play with the adults because they won't let us. And I don't like the idea of you playing with men twice your size and getting hit with the volleyball." He carried the table to the already crowded living room and removed the wind chimes that were hanging from the ceiling. His back was facing Tobio, but he could already imagine the expression on the boy's face when he said:

"This stinks. I didn't think there was so much I couldn't do without other people, and now all we do is toss and receive and spike. I want to try being a setter- the book makes it sound cool, and I don't really get to see him in action on TV."

"April will come soon," Satoru said, turning to face him. "And then you can play with the other boys and get a proper coach."

"But I want to play with people who I know are good and will work hard at this," Tobio said earnestly. "What if the other boys are lazier and more stupid than me?"

He paused and added, "Besides, the teacher said that elementary school kids don't play the way the way players do in matches. We only get to do that when we enter middle school."

"Tobio," Satoru said sharply. "It's not nice say things like that about people you don't know. The other boys will join volleyball because they're interested in it, so I doubt they'll be lazy about it. And coach doesn't want you to get end up in the hospital- volleyball at the competitive level can be very dangerous, especially for the kids your age."

Tobio fell silent, knowing that he'd crossed a line and gloomily pushed a folding chair out of the way. Satoru sighed- he'd let his anger get into his voice again.

His took a deep breath and knelt down so that he could look at his son in the eye. "Tobio, working with other people is something that you need to win, and it'll become more important as you get older. You should respect your team mates for that, and not look down on them."

"Right." Tobio didn't look convinced, and Satoru couldn't help thinking that Ayame was far more suited for this than him.

He patted Tobio on the back. "You'll see what I mean when you start second grade and join the volleyball team. This is the kind of thing that you need to _experience_." He stood up. "Now shall we continue?"

"Right!"

_The kid's young and new to this. He'll grow out of this mindset soon._

It would be several years before he learnt how his son's attempts to heed his advice had failed miserably.

* * *

He decided to ask his mother about the piano after his second volleyball practice session, during during dinner. He'd been thinking about it since he got home, when the coach's briefing about the tournament had been fresh in his mind.

_"A number of you probably won't be playing as you're still really new to the sport, but I want you to go and get an idea of what a match will be like. It'll be good for you in the long run."_

His first match made him more nervous than he expected. It probably had something to do with the fact that he kept hoping that he'd be sent into the court at some point.

He liked to think that he wasn't stupid- he knew the chances of a second-grader being a regular player were annoyingly close to zero. But the coach had praised his tosses and spikes that day, and it was something he hadn't done for the other, new players…

_I'd really hate it if the older players messed up during the game… but still… what if that happened?_

He figured he had to be prepared.

"Mum," he said, finishing up the food on his plate, "do you remember saying something about music calming people in one of your piano lessons?"

"Yes, I do," his mother said, looking surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to remember it. But why are you asking about that now?"

"I was thinking that you playing the piano might help me when the volleyball competition I was telling you about comes around."

His mother raised an eyebrow. "Come again, dear?"

What was wrong with him? Why was he suddenly feeling stupid? The idea was a good one… wasn't it?

He took a deep breath and resolutely ploughed on. "I was thinking that you could play something on the piano for me on the night before the the first match. If I end up actually playing as a replacement or something, I won't be so nervous. I'll be able to play with a- a- what does Dad always say?"

"A fresh mind?" his mother supplied.

"Yeah, that."

His mother sounded funny when she spoke again, and he suddenly found it easier to look at his plate and not her.

He wasn't expecting her answer to be so simple.

"WelI… I would love to, Tobio dear. But the tournament's a month away, I'm rather surprised that you're telling me so early."

"I'd forget if I didn't tell you at once." The full impact of his mother's words suddenly hit him and he nearly dropped his fork and looked at her. "Wait- you'll do it?"

"Of course, Tobio," his mother looked weirdly happy, like she was the one getting something she wanted and not him. "I really want the best for you, and you should know how happy the piano makes me."

Tobio grinned. There was nothing else he could really do to show how happy he was.

"You're smiling genuinely again," his mother said, as she started eating again. "You should do that more often, Tobio- it makes such a difference to your face. Now about this- would you like me to do it before every match?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "The fifth-graders were saying something about "jinxing" something if you do it too much. I don't know what it means, but it sounds bad. I think once at the start of every competition will do."

"Very well." His mother's were twinkling. She picked up both their plates and headed to the sink. "I'm very happy to see that you care so much about volleyball, dear."

"I want to do it for the rest of my life."

* * *

Ayame was surprised at how solely he'd said that- that kind of seriousness and passion wasn't something she was used to hearing from a seven-year-old boy.

_A passing interest, or a lifelong dedication?_

He was so young; it could go either way. She'd support him regardless of whichever passion he nurtured for the future; that much she knew.

What else were mothers for?

She decided not to dwell on the matter and started washing the plates. She pushed away a half-wistful, half wry thought about how Tobio didn't care as much about his studies as he did about volleyball and just decided to revel in the moment- it was a very special one for both of them.


End file.
